Lord of the Rings and The Hobbit-Imagines and Oneshots

Thranduil- A Father's Regret

"Ada, you are being a fool!" you shouted. He signaled the guards and they grabbed your arms, restraining you. "I'll never forgive you for this!"

The guards dragged you outside. You didn't know where they were taking you. Plan A had failed miserably. Time to make plan B."

The moment the guards turned a corner where you knew no one would see you, you threw your fists in the air. And hit both of the guards. It wasn't enough to knock them out, and they tried get a hold of you again. No that you were free and hidden from sight, there was full out battle raging between the three of you. Yes, it was two against one, but you were the daughter of Thranduil, and these were common, low-ranked guards. You were many times their skill level. A few kicks and choke holds late, the two of them lay unconscious on the dirt. You felt bad having to do this to your own subjects, but you were doing this to protect them.

You didn't waste a second. Quickly, you took the armor off the smaller guard and put it on, leaving him in only his smalls. Hopefully no one would find the two victims soon, or else the horn would blow and there would be an all-out search for you. To make sure this didn't happen. You dragged the bodies into a corner were any passing patrol wouldn't spot them.

Now in your disguise, you paced to the barracks. It was the early hours of a new day, the sun was threatening to rise over the mountains any minute. The guards were suiting up, getting ready to either get in formation for war or go home.

As you had predicted, war was decided by the King Under the Mountain. Now you were incognito amongst your own soldiers, awaiting your fathers command. There was a petty battle between the elves and dwarves before Mithrandir saved the day. But then he said that orcs were approaching and the day was most certainly not saved. When the Earth-Eaters came out of nowhere. And began- well, eating the earth.

Out of the holes they left, Azog's army emerged. And the true battle began.

The battle had been taken into the ruins of Dale, where, to the Lakemen's dread, the women and children were. All formation was lost, and the wood elves were fighting like rogues throughout the old streets.

Savage warfare continued for what seemed like hours. In the midst of fighting, your helmet that was far too big fell off, causing your (h/c) locks to whirl around with every swing of your sword. The snowflakes that fell slowly from the heavens made a thin blanket over the frozen blood of men and elves and orcs alike.

You had no idea that orcs would be joining the battle. You realized that if you had convinced Thranduil to surrender and retreat, the orcs would have certainly kills the men and dwarves and taken over the Lonely Mountain. Eru Illuvatar had his mysterious ways, indeed.

Finally, you saw him. Thranduil was fighting three orcs at once when you saw him.

"Father!" you shouted. A smile grew on your lips. He was alive!

It was then that you felt a cold pressure in your back quickly spread to your stomach. The slicing sound was the only thing you heard at that moment despite the chaos around you. You looked down to see the source of your pain: a grey blade belonging to none other than an orc. A second later, it left the same way it came and you fell to the ground.

You watched helplessly as your father, unaware of your suffering, finished his fight. He rushed away, cape swishing through the air as he walked.

"Father," you tried to shout but it came out as a desperate whisper. By now the atmosphere was silent, and Thranduil heard his daughter's plea like you had had heard the blade impale you a minute before. Dread devoured his soul as he slowly turned to face you.

You were laying on your back, your hand numbly outstretched towards him. The part that pained him the most was the red hole in your midsection.

He rushed and collapsed at your side. He then, as gently as possible, pulled your head into his lap. He hushed you and caressed the loose strands of your dirty and sweaty hair. He couldn't believe that you were in this state, he just couldn't.

"My darling," he mumbled somberly. Tears escaped his blue eyes and landed on your cheeks. The cheeks that he had playfully pinched when you were an elfling. "I will get you healed, my little one. I promise."

"Don't make promises you can't keep, Ada," you said with the smallest of smiles. "But can you promise me one thing?"

Thranduil nodded. "Anything, my little one."

You placed a hand on his cheek. "End this madness. It's not worth some of Naneth's old jewelry. She left you two children that love you more than you know. And when I'm gone I want you to cherish Legolas like you cherished her."

Thranduil could not stop crying now. You tried to smile, but the pain was unbearable and you could feel your life fading from your body.

"And I will watch you and Legolas from the Halls of the Valinor with Eru by my side. I'll be safe. I won't have to live with this pain."

"Please, my daughter, don't go," Thranduil begged. You smiled softly.

"I love you, Ada."

"I love you, too, my precious (y/n)."

With one last look at your father, you peacefully closed your eyes and let the pain take over. Your hand slipped off of his cheek as you passed. Thranduil was choking on tears. He leaned down and kissed your forehead many times. You were his only daughter, his true gem. It had taken him until this moment to realize it. And now it was too late.

Your lifeless face was wet with tears that weren't yours. The snow continued to fall, slowly and reluctantly, like they knew how vulnerable the Elvenking was. All was quite except his muffled sobs of agony.

One of the elven commanders ran breathlessly into the scene. He wasn't expecting to see the back of his kneeling king surrounded by the corpses of their brethren.

Thranduil sensed his presence. He scooped your body into his arms, holding you as if life still coursed through your veins, and rose. The commander gasped at the sight of the dead princess.

Not taking his eyes off of you, your father said, "Recall your company."

And the horn of retreat sounded through the ruins of Dale.